You Are Not Alone
by You're Still in Poems
Summary: Life shifts and changes, throwing you down a new path and a new adventure. Starts at the end of the new series, centering around Blanche Mottershead.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A plot idea that came to me at work and became its own thing. Thanks for reading!

* * *

The body pressed against hers felt foreign -too big and too strong. It smelled differently; of aftershave and cologne, rather than soap and perfume. It made her feel small, delicate, and unsure in her own skin.

She'd had too much to drink, desperate to numb the constant ache in her heart. The events leading up to her tumbling into bed with a complete stranger were as hazy as why she was still allowing it to happen.

Hot open mouthed kisses rained down from ear to clavicle, and she squirmed at the feel of stubble scraping the delicate skin. Large hands caressed her curves and snaked down to pull up her skirt in fistfuls.

She closed her eyes and tried to let her mind drift to a more appealing partner. Perhaps that was a bit rude -he was attractive enough -certainly capable of finding a very lovely woman to take home. She wondered why he had chosen her. A challenge probably. A manly challenge that would give him a sense of pride in being to one to turn her interests.

Eventually she relaxed and started to find a rhythm. Her traitorous and intoxicated body seemed not to care at the present who was touching her, rather that they had found the spot that was making her writhe and pulled a long sigh from her throat.

"You like that?" His voice startled her.

"Don't talk. Please." She couldn't concentrate on an imaginary lover if he was _talking._

Seeming not to care whether they spoke or not, he continued his ministrations until she was gasping for air. Quickly -so quickly- he slid inside and she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut.

It was strange and slightly uncomfortable as she stretched around him. Se let out a short breath as he started to move.

She didn't want to touch him, so she brought her hands up by her head. The alcohol was making her extremities feel as fuzzy as her head, and she wondered if she'd wake up with a hangover.

She began to adjust to the feel of him as she let her mind wander back to the imaginary lover she'd created. After what felt like an eternity, he cried out and collapsed on top of her, taking the wind out of her lungs. Slowly, he rolled off her, and she was grateful his sweaty body was no longer attached to hers.

By the time she had washed the feel of him off her skin, he had gone. She fell into bed and succumbed to a deep sleep, wondering what on Earth she had just done.


	2. Chapter 2

The hot sun beat down on the exposed skin on the back of her neck. Dust stuck to her and everything in sight, making for an all around uncomfortable morning.

Hoping to find more promise in the sands, the team excavated the land around where a few broken hair clips, cups, and what looked like an item of cutlery had been discovered.

A light breeze ruffled her curls and cooled her overheated flesh. It blew sand and dust into hair, ears, eyes, nose, and mouth, making her tongue feel heavy and overlarge. For days now she had been more tired and sore, and wondered if such an extended amount of time in England had lowered her stamina for the demands of a dig. She mopped at her brow as she took extensive notes on the small treasures the team was unearthing. She had just finished a small piece of jewelry when one of her team, Geoffrey, walked over to her.

"Tea, Dr. Mottershead?" He asked, setting the tray on the table where he worked.

"Thank you." She smile, though the thought of the liquid did nothing to appeal to her. If anything, it made her mouth feel even more dry. She reached into her bag for her canteen and slowly sipped the crisp liquid, washing the rough feel of dust from her mouth.

Around half past eleven she set her pen and notebook aside and stood to stretch. She raised her arms above her head and winced; her chest had been so sore lately. She wondered if she had pulled a muscle, yet could recall no time she had over exerted herself lifting something.

A wave of exhaustion crashed over her, and she wondered if there was a possibility of sneaking away for a nap while the heat of the day beat down on the land. Figuring as one of the leaders of this dig, and certainly the most knowledgeable, she could retire to the house where they were staying.

A lovely woman a few years older than she, was in charge of the house, which she ran like an inn. When Blanche entered the house she was greeted by the woman.

"Hello, Yeyah." She said with a tired smile as she removed her hat and fanned herself with it. "It's going to be a hot day."

"I believe you are right. Good thing you came back now." She took Blanche's bag and walked with her to her room.

"It's making me so tired." Blanche confessed. "I love hot weather, but it just feels stifling lately." A sudden thought hit Blanche and she didn't stop herself from pondering it aloud. "I wonder... is it possible to be going through the change at my age?" At forty-three she wondered if perhaps what she'd heard some people say about her alternate lifestyle running round ancient lands and living off a plant-based died were true. Were they causing her to age more quickly? Certainly that was rubbish. But she hadn't had her cycle yet, thought it sometimes came late when she was preoccupied. The possible ending of her childbearing years could explain the sensitivity in her breasts, and the constant desire for sleep, as well as a lowered tolerance for the heat.

"You couldn't be. You're far too young!" The woman admonished, "I have a sister ten years older than you -like clockwork!" She said with a snap of her fingers. But the woman, who had known Blanche for several years now, did think there was something different about her. But she would have thought it impossible -the woman had no lovers to speak of, and she wasn't interested in any of the men on her team, so it seemed impossible.

"What is it?" Blanche asked, "You look as though you've had a million thoughts at once."

Forgive me, I had a wild thought." The woman said with a laugh as Blanche opened the door to her room.

"What was it?" She asked with a smile as she took back her bag.

"I just thought... you remind me of how I felt when I was expecting. But it's crazy, I know."

Blanche laughed, "Expecting. I couldn't be pregnant. No. I must be ending my cycle early in life, it's the only logical explanation. Besides you have to sleep with a man to find yourself pregnant."

"I know, as I said I have crazy thoughts." The woman laughed and turned to leave. As Blanche was closing the door to her room, she felt her heart skip a beat -_you have to sleep with a man._

Memories from the night she had been successfully trying to forget rushed back. She knew about pregnancy, being a woman who liked facts. She'd read up on it when she'd gone to live with her nephew Hallam when his wife Agnes was expecting their second child. She'd spent time with young pregnant girls in her time exploring distant lands. But she never thought -wasn't she too old to conceive a child? She may be too young for menopause, but she was certainly to old to be pregnant! That _had_ to be a fact!

She sank down onto her bed and pulled her diary out of her bag, flipping back through he days until she found a small 'X' eleven weeks back.

_Eleven weeks? _Why hadn't she questioned being late two months ago? She placed the diary on her night stand and laid back on the bed. After a nap her head would feel clearer, and she would be able to think this out rationally; there was nothing she could do about it at the present time.

Sleep didn't come as easily as she had hoped, and she tossed and turned. She got out of bed and opened the window, praying for a breeze to stir air through the stuffy room. She stripped off her dress and lay atop the covers in her slip, then rolled onto her stomach and found her chest too sensitive to get comfortable. Rolling onto her back again, she ran her hands down her body. She had a reasonably sized front, but they somehow felt bigger and heavier. She felt panic rise and reached for her diary once again and flipped to the directory in the back, looking up the name of one of the physicians she knew in the area, Dr. Piedmont. The man had been educated in England and had seen Blanche every now and again if she injured herself on site. Unable to get comfortable without knowing, she dressed and went to the clinic in order to give her mind some ease.

* * *

_Days_ she had been waiting, and it was driving her mad. Almost a week had passed when she saw Dr. Piedmont walking toward the excavation site. One of the team, Thomas, stopped him and Blanche rushed over to the pair.

"No, no, it's alright. He's here to see me. Please come through, Dr. Piedmont." She showed him to her makeshift office of the day. "Well?" She asked when they were out of earshot. "What news have you got for me?" She'd had far too much time to think and imagine one of two situations in her head.

He smiled at her, "You should probably start taking it easy; you are expecting."

Perhaps it was all the scenarios she'd played out in her head, or having nearly a week to come to terms with the possibility, but she wasn't nearly as floored as she thought she would have been. "Oh..." was all she could manage to force out.

"I might recommend you go back to your family in England. I heard the war hasn't reached the countryside. I suspect Hitler isn't interested in sheep and cottages."

The prospect of going back home and giving birth to a child in the middle of a war terrified her, even as the Doctor smiled and reassured her it would be fine.

She had left England when Hallam insisted Agnes go with the children outside the city. Asserting her newfound sense of self, she had tried to insist on staying in London to help with the war effort, but eventually gave in. She had begged Blanche to come with her, but Blanche had had other ideas, and sought refuge in work. She didn't want to sit and wait for the doom that may or may nor come.

The Doctor watched her face, "Think on it. The country will be better for the baby than the hot desert. I'm sure there are museums that are exporting their artifacts to outlying towns -it would give you something to do in the time you have on your hands."

"Yes... yes, alright, I'll think of something, I'm sure. Thank you so much for coming out here to tell me. I appreciate it."


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks passed too quickly, and soon she was on her way to the country. She had arranged a small house for the time being, and had contacted the museum she had been working at while staying at Eaton Place. They were currently shipping all they could to the village where should would be staying, and were delighted for her help in the endeavor. Blanche thought it would be a relief to have one constant to throw herself into.

Dr. Piedmont had told her he suspected there would be quite a few families who would love to adopt the child, but Blanche had started coming to terms with being pregnant, and knew she wouldn't be able to part with her child. She was stable in her life, could support a baby, and she somehow felt less alone knowing she would be a mother.

_A mother..._ a mother to a child of her own. She loved babies and children, yet she never thought she'd have her own. She had once imagined she might become a mother figure to Portia's children, but that shred of hope had been dashed when the woman broke Blanche's heart one final time.

Miraculously, Blanche had suffered no morning sickness, just utter exhaustion and a slight ache here and there. Her body was beginning to change; her lower abdomen was beginning to take on a rounded appearance. To passers by she would look like she was simply putting on weight, but not being a vain woman, her swelling abdomen didn't bother her.

She'd started taking vitamins to help herself and the growing baby, and the affect was apparent in her hair, helping to transform the wiry coils into smoother, shinier curls, and causing her nails to grow very quickly. She thought, as she surveyed herself in the mirror before work, she looked quite pretty. She laughed at herself for such a thought and headed out before any more could invade her mind.

Weeks turned into months, and she was throwing herself into work, fixing incorrectly labeled categories and recopying disintegrating records. A beloved colleague from the London museum stopped by every now and again bearing boxes of small items for storage, or cards of authenticity for larger pieces. He surprised her today with records to recopy, and a box of pastries. He had been taken aback when she had told him she was expecting, but he didn't press her for information she didn't readily volunteer.

"Hello Blanche! What is new with you, my dear?" He asked as he set the boxes down on her desk.

"Been busy. My belly's getting bigger." She peeked into the pastry box. "You evidently want me to put on even more weight, Jack." She said with a smile.

"I think a happy mum is a happy baby." He sat down in the chair facing her.

"How are things in London?" She passed over the pastries to the box of records, seeing what other artifacts were now safely out of harm's way.

"Certainly not as calm as things are out here. My daughter moved out with her children while her husband's away fighting."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That must be hard for her." She wondered briefly about Hallam. She'd not heard a word from her family since she'd been back. But then again, she hadn't let them know where she was, either.

"She's weathering it well. Strong girl, she is. My wife is going to join her to help with the kids."

"What about you?"

"A few more weeks in London to set affairs in order, then I'll join them." He smiled. "Don't fret, my dear. I'll be out here soon enough. You should see the museum! It's nearly bare, apart from the larger statues that would not budge." He reached into the pastry box and selected a berry scone. "I suspect this is the last we'll be seeing of sweets for now. So many rations are affecting businesses."

Blanche crossed her ankles and thought of the terrible darning job she had done on a run she made just that morning, when she'd snagged the fabric on her longer nails that she couldn't help biting when she was deep in thought. Too bad nylon was being rationed; she could use a few new pairs. She'd have to find someone who had the patience to repair hers.

How fitting it was that just as she was wondering if she ought to see if she should find someone to help round the house for all the domestic things she fell short at, that she received a phone call. Thinking it was Jack, she answered with a 'Hello?' rather than a more formal greeting.

"Blanche?" She recognized the voice immediately. "It's Agnes."

"Agnes! It's so good to hear your voice! How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. Oh, Blanche, you should have let me know you were back in England!"

"I know I should have. I've just had a lot on my mind with all the records and specimens coming in from the museum. It completely slipped my mind, I'm so sorry."

"No matter, now that I know you're alright. Where are you staying?"

"I'm renting a cottage-"

"You must come and stay with us! Please, I insist you do. It would be so wonderful to have the family all together again. As much of the family as we can get together, that is." Blanche could hear the hidden pain in her voice. Wretched as her sister had been, and as abominably as Hallam behaved with her, she still loved them and missed their company.

"That's very kind of you Agnes, but I'm..." she looked down at her rounded abdomen. Six months gone -it would be interesting explaining it, but it was inevitable, "I'm afraid I-"

"Oh, I'm sure the museum would understand." Agnes cut her off.

They most certainly would. She concerned them with her desire to continue working, despite her pregnancy. The older woman, who owned the small library that had allowed the museum to take over a room, hovered over Blanche, worrying as she climbed on stools to search shelves of books, and lifted boxes of catalogued items. Blanche insisted that in her years spent abroad, it appeared that only England treated pregnant women as thought they were china dolls -and only if they were society at that. It hadn't stopped the woman from hovering.

"Alright." Blanche sighed, "Give me a few days to settle things, and I'll come and stay with you."

"Perfect!" Agnes said enthusiastically, and gave the address to Blanche, before reiterating how thrilled she was that they would all be together again.

"Oh, before you hang up... when I get there I have something to tell you."

"Why not over the phone?"

"It's big news. Better to tell in person." She ran her palm across her growing waistline as she waited for Agnes to answer.

"It's nothing serious, is it?"

"No, it's nothing bad."

"Well, that's a relief. Okay, I shall see you very soon, Blanche." And she was gone.

* * *

When she arrived on the doorstep of the house where Agnes and the children were staying, she rang the bell, uncertain as to who would answer.

"Mr. Amanjit." She hoped with her coat, shawl, and suitcases he wouldn't notice her belly.

"Dr. Mottershead, it's a pleasure to see you again." She remembered when they had detested each other. He had been trying to protect the memory of his mistress, Blanche's older half-sister, and Blanche had stomped all over it. They had eventually come together between taking care of refugee children, and Blanche's book scandal. It had lead to understanding, and loyalty to one another.

"You as well." She smiled in thanks as he took her suitcase from her, letting her hold onto the bag, which she used to shield her midsection.

"Lady Agnes is in the parlor." He showed her through. The house was not as grand as 165, but it was beautiful none the less, and the cottage she'd been renting could have fit in the foyer.

"Blanche!" Agnes cried and got up from the sofa to envelop her friend in a hug. Blanche dropped her bag and was embraced tightly by the taller woman. Agnes frowned at the awkward angle Blanche was standing at, and looked down to see if she had trapped the woman's travel bag between them.

"Agnes, there's something I must show you." Blanche said quickly as Agnes looked down quizzically at her swollen belly. Blanche pulled off her shawl and unbuttoned her coat, revealing the fabric covered bump.

Agnes stared at her belly, then back up to Blanche. True to her proper upbringing, Agnes chose her words carefully before speaking, "Oh, Blanche, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I should have. It was wrong to keep it a secret for so long."

"Are you alright?" She asked with a concerned look. Blanche read the hidden meaning in her words.

"I'm fine. This was unexpected, but it is not the result of... violence, or anything."

"Sit. Have a drink."

"I'll just have a soda water, please." She smiled as Agnes went to retrieve it. "Mixing your own drinks, are you?" She asked as she removed her coat.

"We must all pull our own weight now. Pritchard is still in the city, helping the war effort any way he can. Somebody had to learn." She walked back and handed Blanche the glass, and sat next to her, tucking her legs underneath her body. "This isn't my business, but I thought you weren't interested in men. How did this happen?" She was being as gentle as she could.

"It's alright. Er, just over six months ago I had far too much to drink before leaving for Egypt. Things happened and lead to this."

"And you don't know the gentleman's name?"

"I'm afraid not. " She sighed. "It was just as uneventful as I had expected." Looking to Agnes, she offered a smile.

Agnes's mouth twitched in response, as though she wanted to smile, but had one last concern. "And are you alright with this? I mean, are you happy?"

Blanche unconsciously slid a hand across her stomach, "Yes I am. I feel for the first time in a long time that I won't be alone."

Now Agnes did smile, "A baby. Blanch, that is such a lovely thing in such a difficult time. She leaned forward to hug Blanche again, "I'm very happy for you. Oh! You'll have to try the clothes I kept from when I was expecting Veronica."

"Oh, I don't believe I'd fit into your clothing, dear." _Not to mention, I'd look ridiculous in them_ she added mentally.

"Nonsense, they'll do beautifully!"

It was wonderful being back with Agnes, Pamela, and the children. With Hallam, Spargo, and Johnny away at war, and Pritchard in London, it was a house filled with females. Beryl had recovered from her injury, and was still being forced to take it easy with Mrs. Buck by Agnes. Mrs. Thack and Eunice carried about as usual, and Mr. Amanjit held the male authority figure in the house.

Later that afternoon Blanche hesitantly emerged in a pale blue blouse, and a grey skirt that Agnes insisted she try on. She had flat out refused the pink blouse!

"Don't you look lovely!" She exclaimed as Blanche took in her appearance in the mirror.

"Agnes, dear, I look like the pauper poorly wearing the prince's clothing."

"No, you look darling! It very much flatters you, and the blue looks wonderful with your eyes." Knowing Agnes wouldn't allow her not to accept the clothes, so she quickly thanked her. She did suppose they were much more flattering than the dresses she had found in a shop near her cottage. "You do look very beautiful, Blanche. I think you suit pregnancy very well. I looked simply dreadful." Though she wouldn't admit it aloud, Blanche did believe Agnes had looked awful while she was pregnant. But she was anemic and having a rough time, so it was no wonder.

"Well, thank you, but you look perfectly put together all the time and I never do. I suppose it evens out."

"You're very sweet" Agnes said as she selected another dress from her wardrobe and added it to the growing pile for Blanche.

The older woman brought a hand up to cradle her belly and felt the infant somersaulting. It was a strange, yet comforting feeling. She could sit and feel the movement for hours. Right now, however, she suddenly felt a push out against her palm. "Agnes," she said quietly, as though any loud noise might make the movement stop, "the baby pressed against my hand."

Agnes turned from her wardrobe and smiled, "Really?"

Blanche held out her hand, beckoning Agnes to her, "Feel it." She pressed her hand against the spot. Agnes knew the feeling, but remembered the awe she had felt the first time. "It feels so strange." Blanche breathed.

"It is strange, but lovely." She thought it best not to mention how it could wake you in the middle of the night, or make you almost double over when taking a swift kick to the rib -she'd find out later. She looked up at Blanche's glowing face and smiled; she truly did suit pregnancy, and it was wonderful seeing her so unashamedly happy. She thought if there was anyone who deserved to be so happy, it was her.


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks spent wearing the clothes Agnes had loaned her did nothing to diminish how awkward she thought she made them look. The elegant materials, and delicate cuts and designs made her feel as thought she were masquerading as a lady of society in a wardrobe loaned by a big sister. She wished Agnes wasn't so sweetly insistent; she knew the woman had only the best intentions, so Blanche humored her. One afternoon, while squatting down to inspect book titles on the bottom bookshelf, the hem of her skirt caught on her heel. If she hadn't been pregnant, she would have shot up, and damaged the garment, but her slower movements allowed her to feel the resistance and pull of the hem. Carefully she released her heel from the stitching, and stood to inspect the damage. Nothing serious, but nothing she could fix and make look decent. She sought out Eunice who was carrying fresh linens to the bathroom.

"I can hem that right quick, ma'am. Let me go and get needle and thread, and I'll be back."

Blanche stood as still as possible to avoid herself or the young girl falling victim to a stab with a wayward needle. "All set. Looks better than before, if I do say so myself."

"Thank you, Eunice."

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you pull the hem down?" Eunice asked as she replaced the tools back in the small sewing box.

"The skirt belongs to Agnes, and she's taller than I am. I was kneeling down to look at something and it caught on my shoe."

"You oughta be careful. You could have taken a nasty fall, ma'am." She said kindly.

"I suppose I should be more careful, shouldn't I?"

"You can always just call one of us if you need something out of reach. Anything else I can get for you?"

"Thank you, I'm fine now." She looked down when Eunice left and realized with great irritation that she hadn't grabbed the book. With a sigh of trepidation, she decided to select a different title on a more manageable shelf.

* * *

Mrs. Thack, who had originally criticized Blanche's vegetarian diet, was very glad indeed for one less mouth to feed a meat-based cuisine. She found it easy to stretch Blanche's meals, and tried to find the heartiest grains available, and the freshest vegetables for her and the baby.

Because Agnes was learning that class and the things it demanded of you might not make sense in all areas of the world (and that it seemed useless in wartime) she encouraged the staff and family to dine together. It made her feel better, as though everyone she could keep an eye on were safe. At first, the staff found it unsettling, but slowly with Mr. Amanjit's encouragement, and Agnes's insistence, they all came together. Blanche couldn't help but wonder what would happen when the war ended.

At a table mostly dominated by women, the conversations were wide and varied. Blanche was occasionally bored, not knowing every topic from the tabloids. Sometimes she'd strike up a conversation with Mr. Amanjit, Hector, or Pamela. Her favorite conversations lately were with Veronica. Closing in on two-years-old, she was quite an individual; prone to the occasional tantrum, she always behaved for Blanche. She was fascinated with the encyclopedia and coffee-table books Blanche had been showing to her. She'd snuggle up against her aunt, and listen with wide eyes to stories from all these distant lands. To her, they were merely fairy tales, accompanied by big pictures, sometimes in color, and usually very detailed.

The pair took turns telling stories these days, Veronica telling hers in short compounded sentences and made up words from a language all her own. She was delighted that Blanche would pay her such close attention.

Tonight at dinner, she was restless and Agnes told her, "Veronica, dear, it's a privilege to sit at the table, and I expect you to behave." Blanche knew that would make little to no impression on the small girl, yet it made Hector sit up more properly.

As she was engaging in a conversation with Mr. Amanjit, she kept being distracted by Veronica, who's babbling had been growing steadily louder and more cranky. Agnes wanted the staff to put aside their responsibilities during dinner time, and so Nanny let her quietly admonish the girl for not being polite. Blanche flinched suddenly as a small silver cup was chucked up into the air and landed with a devastating splash in the gravy in front of her. She had the good reflex to quickly cover her face as the thick warm goo spattered her. A commotion broke out as Mrs. Buck and Mr. Amanjit rose quickly to offer their napkins to Blanche. Beryl and Eunice caught eyes and looked down at their plates to avoid spontaneous laughter. Mrs. Thack, after processing the accident, sighed and passed her napkin down the table as well._ That had been a good gravy,_ she lamented.

Agnes gasped and turned to her daughter in shock, before turning to Blanche who had taken the napkins and was wiping the sauce from her hands, trying not to think of the fact that she was essentially covered in boiled animal fat. She looked down at herself; her front was spattered, and she worried she had just ruined Agnes's dress. She was just about to apologize when she looked up and saw Agnes rounding on her disobedient daughter.

"Veronica!" She began sternly.

"Agnes, no," Blanche interrupted quickly as she could, startling the woman, "don't embarrass her in front of everyone."

"But she-"

"I'm fine."

Agnes sighed and picked up her daughter, who began to protest loudly, and carried her to the next room.

When she had left, Blanche looked across the table at Hector. His face was so reminiscent of a young Hallam, but the twitch in the corner of his mouth was all his own. They looked at each other and dissolved into giggles. The tension at the table broke, and Agnes returned a while later after putting Veronica to bed.

Later that night when Blanche had changed into her nightgown and housecoat, and taken a chair in the study, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Blanche? Someone has something important to say to you." Agnes motioned for Veronica to come in, and the small blonde haired girl toddled in carrying a blanket in one hand, and wiping at streaming eyes with the other.

"I sorry, Ahnee." Blanche's heart melted at the teary apology and the attempt at "auntie." Veronica hiccoughed sadly, and walked closer, holding her arms up.

"Oh, darling," Blanche set her book aside and leaned forward with a bit of difficulty to pick up the girl, who wrapped her arms around Blanche's neck, "it's alright. I forgive you." She stroked her back and rocked her soothingly.

"Not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad. But you must remember to be a good girl, and do as Mummy asks."

"Yes, Ahnee."

Agnes observed Blanche and Veronica and sighed -not even a mother yet, and Blanche seemed to understand children better than she. It seemed to come naturally to the other woman, whereas Agnes hadn't understood the full responsibilities of motherhood until she'd had Hector. Even then, many of the harder responsibilities for both her children had been taken over by Nanny. Here Blanche sat, not letting her own pregnancy stop her from cuddling and comforting another child. Hallam hadn't let Agnes pick up Hector when she was pregnant, and had told the small boy to be a gentleman and sit beside Mummy, and take care of her.

"I habe book?"

"You'll have to ask nicely."

"Mumma, I habe book, please?"

Agnes looked at her daughter clinging to Blanche, begging for a bedtime story. "Very well."

"Fanks, Mumma." Veronica carefully climbed off Blanche's lap and waited for the woman to heave herself to her feet, before grabbing the hem of her robe, and tugging her toward the door, eager to fall asleep hearing about the wonders of made-up worlds.

* * *

Her hips hurt. The baby had taken up residence in a ball along her left side, and she ached. Blanche was exhausted, not getting much sleep as the baby's kicks, which were often endearing during the daytime, were disastrous to a decent night of sleep. Add that to the tossing and turning, and she was craving a solid night of uninterrupted sleep.

Agnes caught her dozing in one of the overstuffed chairs, with her book splayed across her belly. She'd asked if she would rather nap in a more comfortable spot, and Blanche confessed this was one of the first times she'd felt comfortable enough to sleep. Agnes quickly discovered her friend was uncomfortable, her belly getting too large to find a good sleeping position, and putting stress on her back. She showed the tired woman the trick she had learned from her mother-in-law, and helped Blanche to place a pillow under the swell to give support.

Too tired to care her glasses were still resting on the bridge of her nose, she murmured her relief and thanks to Agnes.

"I can find no energy to move." She gave an attempt at a laugh.

"You poor dear. You know, Hallam used to massage my back. I could do it for you -it will relax you and the baby."

Any hesitation Blanche may have had were overshadowed by the prospect of some of the knots in her back being seen to. She gratefully obliged and it did indeed relax her. She brought her hand up to where the baby was settling down, as thought her touch could provide added comfort to the infant. "You're going to put me to sleep." Blanche's voice was thick with exhaustion.

"It feels alright, then?" She asked gently.

"Amazing." Blanche murmured as she nuzzled her face deeper into the pillow. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." And with that, Blanche began to drift off into a truly satisfying sleep.

* * *

"You haven't told me any names you've been thinking of." Agnes said as she saw Blanche composing a short list in her diary.

"I haven't come up with many worth sharing yet. I'm afraid my favorite girl's name was taken by an ex-lover. Some sort of twisted homage to me." She said bitterly as she dotted an 'i' a bit too forcefully.

"Did she really?" Agnes asked starchily. "Isis is your favorite girl's name?" She remembered the article on Portia Alresford and her children.

"I suppose I have to find another if it's a girl."

"What if it's a boy? Any ideas there?"

"A fair few. Nothing pinned down just yet."

"You're carrying awfully high for it to be a boy. I think it's a girl."

"Does the way you carry really determine gender? I thought that was an old wive's tale."

"Perhaps, but it is fun to speculate. Are you thinking it's a boy? Or a girl?"

"Honestly, I am just hoping the baby is healthy. And that I'll be a good enough mother."

"You'll be the best. You're so natural. This will be the luckiest baby."

Blanche was touched and ran her hand down the length of her belly. "Thank you." She set aside her diary and thumbed through her favorite book of Egyptian mythology. "I really loved the name Isis. I wish I'd never told Portia. My heart sank when I found out."

"I don't see why you couldn't call her that. It's a beautiful name, really. And I bet the story behind it is just as lovely."

For a moment, Blanche imagined having a daughter called Isis, and then she felt a flash of anger -she'd always think of her former lover if she used the name, and she didn't want her to have that much control over her life. It would give her too much satisfaction.

"No, I'll find something. Something better suited for my child." She turned the page a little too roughly, and heard a small tearing noise. She had been feeling a little off that morning and she suspected hormones. The soft '_ffftt_' of ripping paper set her off. She felt tears start and sniffed quietly.

"Blanche, are you alright?" Agnes watched as her friend dissolved into sobs, figuring neither knew the cause. "Ohh, Blanche."

"I'm sorry," Blanche reached into her pocket for her handkerchief, "I haven't thought about... the affair in so long. I tried to lock it away, but I think... I think-" She broke off, not knowing what she was thinking, only that she was _feeling_ upset now.

"You're just feeling a bit fragile, is all. Thinking about Lady Alresford, and the name she took from you hurts. I understand."

"Something like that." Blanche said sadly, and wiped at the tears running down her cheeks. "I am feeling fragile today." She sniffed.

"It's alright, darling, it happens."

Blanche sighed and placed her glasses back on, "I feel a bit better." She drew a hitched breath and examined the minimal damage she had done to her book.

"Isn't it amazing, those mood swings? So strong, but usually short-lived."

"It's certainly something. I really don't appreciate them. Thankfully they don't happen too often." She flattened her hand against where the baby pushed, and felt more at ease. The baby had a calming affect on her in moments like this, and she was grateful to the tiny life she was carrying, already helping Mum feel more safe and comforted.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that afternoon, Blanche was outside with Hector. He was a wonderfully curious child, and liked to play 'archaeologist' with Blanche. The game consisted of him taking a magnifying glass round the garden, giving the occasional 'A-hah!' or 'Interesting!' as he gathered leaves, twigs and flower petals, and handed them to Blanche to 'catalogue'. She made piles and then he would crawl onto a chair next to her, and look at the items. She had given him a journal to write in, and he took extensive 'notes' in an endearing scribble.

"What's this one, Aunt Blanche?" Sometimes he left it up to her to make up what a leaf could be, and he would nod enthusiastically and write down what she said.

Before Blanche could come up with a story for the leaf, she heard a noise she thought she wouldn't hear in the country -an air raid siren. Hector jumped down off his chair and put his journal under his arm."

"Must we go to the shelter?" Blanche could hear the attempt to hide the disappointment in his voice, as playtime was cut short.

"Yes, dear, we must." She stood and took the boy's offered hand and glanced back at the house, wondering when the inhabitants would begin pouring out.

They were the first two into the shelter, and Hector turned on the lamp and removed his scarf.

"Where's Mummy?"

"She'll be here soon, dear. Probably gathering up your sister."

Sure enough, Agnes, Veronica, and the others living in the house, entered the shelter minutes later, and secured the door behind them.

"I was washing my hair! Veronica was napping. Such an inconvenient time for a raid, really!" Agnes motioned to the towel on her head, and set her sleepy daughter down on the cot. "I hope nothing serious is happening."

Just then, in the distance, low rumbling was heard, and everyone looked around at each other. It sounded like a bomb had gone off miles away. It was followed by another one that sounded closer. Hector pressed his face into Blanche's hip, and wound small fists in the fabric of her skirt. She smoothed his hair and looked toward the roof of the shelter, wishing she could see what was happening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eunice slide an arm around Beryl's waist, and the older girl wrapped a comforting arm around the red head's shoulder, her wedding band catching the light cast by the lantern. Everyone held their breath, waiting for more.

Half an hour later, one more rumble broke through their silence, but had moved no closer. They sounded almost like distant fireworks; nowhere near enough to shake the shelter. Veronica had woken up and asked where they were. Agnes told her and snuggled her in her arms. Hector was still hugging Blanche's legs, and she leaned against the wall, continuing to stroke his hair while her other hand supported her belly. The extended time standing in one place was beginning to hurt her back, and she shifted uncomfortably, letting out a short hiss.

"Dr. Mottershead? You shouldn't be standing." Mr. Amanjit suddenly broke from his almost meditative state by the door.

"Oh, goodness, Blanche, sit here." Agnes hastily stood and took Hector's hand, leading him away. "I should have realized." Nobody had spoken in so long, Blanche had to clear her throat to reply. Her hips felt stiff, and she walked rather ungracefully to the cot. Mr. Amanjit crossed to her, and helped her sit down.

"Thank you." She sighed, grateful to take the weight off her feet.

"Oh, dear when are they going to give the all-clear? Dinner isn't going to cook itself, and it's not good for Dr. Mottershead to be out here for so long." Mrs. Thack said, looking at her watch anxiously. "We've been in here thirty minutes, for goodness sake."

"It's probably precaution. Wait a while, see no other attacks are on the way, and then send us back in." Mrs. Buck offered.

"Do you think they'd wait till after the 'all clear' to drop another?" Eunice asked.

"There's really nothing worth hitting out here. Probably miscalculated and missed the intended target." Beryl added. "Probably just surveying the damage now."

Blanche felt a small hand on her stomach, and looked down at Veronica snuggling up to her.

For another quarter of an hour they stayed in the shelter, talking quietly, or in Veronica and Blanche's case, dozing. Finally the all-clear sounded, and they started to make their way inside. As Agnes tried to relieve Blanche of Veronica, the young girl whined sleepily and clung to her aunt's neck. Agnes knew she would be cranky, having her nap completely disturbed.

"Come along, love." Agnes quietly requested.

"No." Veronica said groggily.

"Oh, just help me stand." Blanche no longer cared, having no patience for Agnes and Veronica at the moment -she just wanted to leave this room and get back inside. Mr. Amanjit stepped forward once again to help Blanche up from the cot, and steady herself before carrying Veronica back into the house.

* * *

News came the next morning that the bombs were actually tests the Royal Air Force were dropping in an empty forest miles from where they were. Also that day, Blanche was visited by a friend of hers named Natalie, who she had met in Cambridge. Natalie was once married with children of her own, but when her husband caught her with another woman, they had divorced. A brilliant woman in her own right, she had been a midwife by occupation, and when she left her husband, she had gone off to study different methods of childbirth. She had been introduced to Blanche, and the two hit it off and had stayed in touch over the years, meeting up whenever they could. Blanche contacted her when she found out she was pregnant, and had requested her help with the delivery.

"How is everything, Blanche?" Natalie asked as she thanked Mrs. Buck for the tea she poured out.

"I'm getting tired. Ready for this to be over."

Natalie nodded, "Not long now; you look like you've dropped. Is it getting harder to walk?"

"I feel rather like a hippo on land."

Natalie laughed and patted her friend's knee, before picking up her tea cup and taking a sip. "I have forgotten what a decent cup of tea is like. It's so easy to make it hastily when it's just you."

"I thought you had a lover."

"Not anymore. It's always those society ladies, isn't it? Bored with their lives, looking for a thrill. God, I'll never learn. And you?"

"Obviously not now." She cradled her belly with her hands. Within the past few days, Blanche felt like she was riding on waves of emotion, hormones surging in and out, and causing her to feel weepy rather quickly. It wasn't something she liked, and she thought she was doing a very good job keeping herself in check. She knew she was being vain and stupid, but she was feeling rather un-pretty at the present time, and felt a rush of self-pity that she tried to stamp out.

"You look even more beautiful now than ever, Blanche. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Blanche blushed, and felt an irritating urge to cry, "Er, thank you." Hoping movement would distract her, she leaned forward awkwardly to pick up her tea cup and winced. Ever since she carried Veronica inside the house last night, she'd had a dull ache in her back. She should have had the girl walk, but she really hadn't wanted a tantrum, so she indulged her. The both of them had been to cranky and tired for a fight. She brought a hand up to massage the spot, but figured it was be something that would need to work itself out with time.

Natalie spent the afternoon with her, catching up and looking over the room where Blanche was intending to deliver. She'd considered a hospital, but after consulting Natalie, and remembering the horrible ordeal Agnes had gone through, she figured home would suit her just fine.

She was napping off the pain in her back when the door to her bedroom was pushed open, and Veronica streaked in, pulling herself up onto the bed and bouncing on her knees. Blanche started awake and felt the ache in her back spread.

"Veronica!" She heard Agnes's voice coming toward her room, and seeing the opened door she said, "Nanny and I told you we were eating dinner now. Aunt Blanche is sleeping, and will be coming down later."

"Not now?" Veronica asked, patting Blanche's head.

Blanche felt the clenching sensation in her back ease, and with it, her irritation.

"Aunt Blanche needs her rest, and you are not behaving like a good girl." Veronica bounced on her knees once again, and Blanche quickly put her hand on the girl's legs to still her.

"Darling, you must stop that." The movement combined with the spasms were making her feel a bit nauseous. Nanny had trailed up behind Agnes and knocked on the door.

"Nanny, would you kindly take Veronica down and help her with her supper?"

"Course, your Ladyship." She went to the bed and picked up the girl, who squirmed to get down, and walk with Nanny. She allowed her the independence, and the two left.

"Oh, Blanche, I'm so sorry. She's been dreadfully clingy to you the past few days."

"I think I hurt my back carrying her inside yesterday." Blanche said as another spasm began.

"I was worried that might happen. You already seemed off yesterday. I should have been more firm."

"It's my fault. I keep giving into her." Blanche carefully pushed herself into a sitting position. "I've been having pain all day."

"Do they come and go?" Agnes's tone changed and she walked closer. "What do they feel like?"

"Like an ache." She placed her palm across her back and let out a ragged breath. "Do you think a hot water bottle would help?"

"Blanche, where is your friend staying? I think you may want to call her."

"You don't think that I'm in labor, do you?" She asked, hoping to hear 'no'.

"I'm not sure. But when I had Hector, I thought my back was simply hurting. I let it go all day and would up giving birth on the bathroom floor."

"Maybe I should give her a call." Blanche had thought the start of labor would be more obvious, but with Agnes's story, she wasn't convinced.

By the time Natalie arrived, it was obvious. The pain had travelled forward and was more centered in her midsection. Not terrible at the present time, but Blanche could feel the potential for serious contractions later.

"I'll leave you two." Agnes offered.

"No," Blanche said, feeling a wave starting, "please stay." She sucked air through her teeth as the pressure built, more intense than the last.

As it build, Natalie began removing her traveling coat, her earrings and bangles, and gathered the hem of her muslin dress and tied it up shorter. She pulled her long thick hair out of the delicate combs, and wove it into a shiny plait before moving to Blanche. "Do you have a slip under your dress?" Blanche shook her head. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, it's fine."

Natalie startled Agnes as she unzipped the dress Blanche wore and stripped it off her body, leaving the woman in her stockings, knickers and brasserie. Agnes awkwardly looked away, thought not before noticing Blanche's stomach bore no stretch marks. _Of course_ she thought _she really is just made for pregnancy._

Natalie picked up a knee length nightdress and helped Blanche to pull it on, before helping her sit back on the bed as another contraction came. She noticed her friend's breathing change, and saw her body stiffen. "Just try to relax as best you can when they come." She said in her soothing voice, as she kneeled in front of Blanche, and pushed up the hem of her nightdress to undo her garters, pulling off first one stocking, than the other. Agnes took a seat beside the bedside table and watched. "Lie back, I've got to check your progress." Blanche scooted herself back and closed her tired eyes as Natalie gave her a check up. "Oh, Blanche, I'm surprised you have been so calm. You're nearly six centimeters dilated."

"Well, that's good news." Blanche said as Natalie pulled down the skirt again.

"If you move around a bit, you can help speed things along."

As Blanche paced around, she noticed her contractions intensify. Natalie let her walk by herself until she needed her, and quietly chatted with Agnes. They were distracted a while later by Blanche as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"I need to sit for a moment." Her voice sounded strained, and Natalie rose to stand in front of her.

"How are they?"

"Getting more intense." Blanche felt her body tense in preparation and brought her hands up to cradle her belly. Natalie moved forward to stroke Blanche's upper arms as the contraction began. Blanche leaned forward and rested her forehead against Natalie, and inhaled sharply.

"On the next one, Blanche, I want you to breathe in and out slowly." Blanche waited until the next contraction and heard, "Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth. Beautiful. Again."

The next one was surprisingly strong, and Blanche reached out to cling to Natalie's hips. Breathing out through her mouth turned into a low moan of pain, which oddly made her feel a bit better.

"You're doing so well, Blanche. Keep listening to your body."

Hours passed and Blanche was now leaning forward against her dresser, as Natalie massaged her back and helped her rock her hips side to side. Blanche's head was resting in her arms as wave upon wave of pain seized her body. She felt like there was no break and she was suffering one long contraction.

On last examination, she had been almost fully dilated and was now waiting for the next step.

Natalie noticed the change in Blanche's body as she began moving into the final stage of labor. Blanche felt a different pressure build, and lifted her head, "I think I need to push."

They went over to the bed, and Agnes poured cool water from a pitcher into a bowl, grateful she could finally help. Natalie helped Blanche crawl onto the bed and brace her back against the headboard.

Pushing offered relief from the contractions that spread like fire from her back, round her front, and down her thighs. At the same time, it exhausted her.

Breath ragged, and wild hair sticking to her neck, Blanche gasped for air as she gathered more strength to bear down again. She barely heard Natalie or Agnes's encouragements, and retreated into her own world. She panted and let her head fall back on the pillow as she rested for a moment. Agnes brought a cool cloth to her neck and forehead, and Blanche looked up at her with weary eyes.

"Nearly there." She whispered encouragingly.

Several powerful pushes later, Natalie driving her onward, Blanche heard tiny newborn wails, and experienced such relief and euphoria. She'd done it! She looked down at her baby in Natalie's arms as the other woman said, "It's a girl." and smiled brightly.

Blanche brought a shaky hand up to her mouth, absolutely in awe of her new daughter. Natalie quickly dried her off and wrapped her in a blanket, before passing her to Blanche, who instantly cradled her to herself.

"Thank you so much Natalie. You were wonderful."

"As were you, Blanche."

Blanche breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes as the baby nuzzled closer. After Natalie cleaned and packed her bag, she stepped out for a while to fetch some other things and rest, herself. Agnes sat on the bed, facing Blanche, and looked at her dear friend and her new baby. "Agnes, she's so beautiful."

Agnes nodded, "Yes she is, Blanche. She's perfect. And you were perfect."

Blanche stroked the feathery hair, and could do nothing to stop her tears, "Ohh, my darling. I love you." She felt as though her heart would burst as she looked at the miraculous child she hadn't know how long she had waited for for until this moment. She kissed her soft forehead and sniffed quietly. She brushed damp curls out of her face and realized just how tired she was, and at the same time knew she could not sleep if she tried.

She was enthralled. Everything about her baby, from her tiny nose and mouth, to her limbs she had no control over yet, absolutely captivated Blanche. The baby opened unfocused dark green eyes and looked up at her mother. "Hello." Blanche stroked her finger down a tiny open palm, and smiled when small fingers wrapped around one of hers. As mother and daughter took each other in, Blanche thought back to the night that brought her this beautiful girl, and was grateful to the man who had given her such a gift.

Natalie returned a while later and asked if Blanche was ready to try feeding the baby. Agnes bowed out then, returning to find her own children and tell them the news.

It took a few tries, but soon Blanche and her baby had figured it out. As the baby fed, Natalie recorded information down to be filed on official documents.

"What are you going to call her?"

"Felicity." Blanche said stroking the newborn's back.

"Middle name?"

"Claire."

"Felicity Claire Mottershead." Natalie said as she wrote the names down. "No homage to your love of Egypt, then?"

"No. That's what I love, and she may not. Felicity means 'happiness' and 'luck'. I'm so lucky to have her."

Natalie smiled at the meaning and reached out to squeeze Blanche's hand. "She's very lucky to have you." She turned her attention to the newly christened infant. "Aren't you, Felicity? You have the most wonderful Mummy in the world."

* * *

Blanche was no stranger to shocking the staff with her radical and 'new age' ideas. When she refused Nanny's offer to keep the newborn in the nursery, and instead keep her in her cot in her own room, the woman balked.

"But you need your rest, Dr. Mottershead. Surely you will be waning a good night's sleep."

"I'll sleep better if I know she's with me. She'll only wake if she needs something, and I want to be here to soothe her."

Nanny opened and closed her mouth several times in an attempt to choose a retort, and was distracted by Natalie carrying in a small bassinet. "Surely you don't think the baby should stay with her tonight? The poor dear is exhausted!"

"She wants her here. It's her baby, and she must bond with her." Natalie said, not missing a beat as she placed the cot next to the bed. "You may go, she'll call if she needs you." Nanny turned and left in a huff of confusion muttering about 'new age thinkers!'.

Blanche passed the baby to Natalie who swaddled her and laid her gently in the cot. Blanche sank down in bed, letting her tired body relax. She reached out to run a hand down the baby's warm belly, smiling tiredly at the small sounds she was making.

"Please don't be afraid to give me a ring if you need anything."

"Thank you for everything, Natalie. You are a wonder."

Natalie smiled, "Good night, Blanche."

"Good night." Blanche barely heard the door close before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

She was barely aware of waking a few times during the night to feed Felicity, she was so exhausted. Both she and the baby seemed efficient at getting Felicity what she needed, and then letting mum back to sleep in the meanwhile.

Soft fussing woke Blanche and she slowly opened her eyes and squinted at the sun shining through the curtains. Blinking sleep from her eyes, Blanche moved to sit up in bed. She ran her hands up her face and through her hair before turning to the source of the sound. She smiled at her daughter, who was working her mouth with quiet popping noises.

During the feeding, Blanche took a moment to look away from her daughter and down at her watch. "Oh, my darling, we slept in. It's nearly eleven o'clock." She stroked Felicity's back when she was through, and nestled down against the pillows. Still a bit tired, she probably could have slept a few more hours, when there was a knock on the door.

Natalie entered with a tray and shut the door behind her. "Good morning, Mummy." She set the tray down on the bedside table. "Hungry?"

"Starving, actually."

"Let me take her, and you can eat something."

Blanche felt as though she hadn't eaten anything in years, and enthusiastically started in on her oatmeal with milk and a touch of honey. "Thank you." She said in a pause after swallowing a mouthful, before taking a sip of tea.

"You're welcome. You need to keep up your strength to feed her." She shifted Felicity so her head rested on her shoulders. "How was last night?"

"Fine. She behaved wonderfully. I don't quite remember all of it, because I was too tired."

"No troubles getting her to feed?"

"Not at all. She's a good eater." Blanche looked down at her tray, which was nearly gone, "Like mother, like daughter, I guess."

Natalie laughed, "There's more if you'd like."

"No, this is lovely." She said as she began to crack open the egg.

They sat in silence for a while as Blanche finished off her plate, and sighed contentedly. "I feel wonderful. Everything seems so at peace."

"Motherhood will suit you beautifully, dear Blanche. I rarely see women take to pregnancy, and baby so well."

"It's probably something to do with my age." She replied, moving her tray back to the bedside table.

"I think it has something to do with your worldliness and open thinking." Natalie passed Felicity back to Blanche, who welcomed the weight of her daughter in her arms.

Afternoon crept along, and Blanche was visited by Agnes and the children, who were wonderstruck by the baby; they were fascinated by her tiny ears and small hands.

Veronica hesitated at first to climb into Blanche's arms for a hug while Agnes cradled the baby. She eventually set aside her jealousy for the tiny new girl who was stealing the attention, and snuggled up to Blanche and relayed to her aunt the day so far.

Propped up with pillows, Hector was permitted to briefly hold the baby. A proud smile crossed his face, finally feeling like the head boy while his father was away.

* * *

As days and weeks passed, Blanche and Felicity fell into a groove with one another, bonding quickly, and adapting to their new life.

Blanche returned one afternoon to the small library to check the back flow of work she'd missed over the months she was absent. Felicity accompanied her, tucked safely against Blanche's body using a shawl and a tying method Natalie had demonstrated. Blanche talked to her as she double checked the records hat had been filed away, filling her head with stories of faraway lands.

Felicity behaved amazingly each time they went to the library, and won the staff over in a way that had taken Blanche quite some time to do. Mrs. Rose, the owner of the library, loved to take Felicity while Blanche was occupied, and Felicity took well to all the attention she was receiving.

Her colleague from London, Jack, came to check on her and see her new baby.

"You have been blessed, Blanche," he said as he Felicity snuggled into his arms, "with a very easy baby. She'll travel well."

"She's wonderful." Blanche smiled down at Felicity. "I don't know how much traveling I'll be doing anytime soon."

"Not even once the war ends?" He looked up from the baby to stare quizzically at Blanche.

"I think I have a home in Cambridge that I haven't stayed at in quite some time."

"My, my. Will motherhood occupy your time fully now?"

"For the time being. Much as I'd love to keep working, she needs me. I want to be home with her. I can't miss a moment of her growing up."

"We shall certainly miss having you around all the time. I hope you still come for visits."

"Of course! And if you get any artifacts you know I couldn't resist, you know how to find me."

"You have a wonderful Mum, Felicity. Willing to put her career on hold."

"No. It's just time to start a new adventure."


End file.
